Art in the Blood
by Limited-Fantasy
Summary: Loki meets Sherlock Holmes in the 1890s and inevitably falls for the irritating mortal. Unfortunately, as all mortals are destined to do, Holmes dies. Over a century later in 2012, Loki meets Tony Stark, who is reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

"_Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest of forms."_ - Sherlock Holmes (The Greek Interpreter)

Sherlock Holmes was an irritating mortal. An irritating, but fascinating one all the same.

When Loki first stumbled upon Baker Street, it was entirely by chance. He had wandered into grimy, smoky London in search for one of his runaway magical experiments when Holmes ran into him, holding up the tail of a rather large and vicious-looking rat.

Neither spoke for a second as they eyed one another in the yellowish fog. Loki could see those quick, grey eyes take in his form with startling intensity. Loki did not squirm at the scrutiny, but leaned against his walking stick, giving the mortal one of his own piercing looks.

The mortal dressed oddly. His clothes were ill-fitting, his bowler hat askew on top of his messy brown locks. He did not shave and if it were not for the silver-handled walking stick he carried, Loki would've thought he was one of those rougher mortals that lingered around the dockyards and east of Westminster.

'So this rat belongs to you, Mister…?'

'Keynes. Lawrence Keynes,' Loki lied smoothly, holding out his hand.

The mortal put the rat's tail into his hand and shoved his own back into the pockets of his frock coat with a smile.

'"Keynes," is it? A pleasure. I'm Holmes, Sherlock Holmes." He said it as if Loki would recognise it, but he did not.

Holmes seemed to notice the blank look as his cocksure smile fell and he rummaged through his waistcoat pocket for a little card. Loki took it with the same hand he was holding the now-docile rat and awkwardly glanced at the printed letters:

Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. 221B Baker Street.

Unfortunately, that meant even less to Loki than his name, but he smiled nonetheless and gave the mortal a slight inclination of his head in greeting.

'A pleasure, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps we will meet again soon.'

Holmes looked from the rat back to Loki slowly and gave a knowing smile.

'I am sure. I am not occupied this coming Saturday, if you wish to call.'

Loki's lips thinned, but he continued to smile, stifling his annoyance at the mortal's arrogance. Giving the Holmes another nod of farewell, he took his leave, fading back into the thick fog with his quarry. He was definitely not going to visit Holmes on Saturday.

On Saturday, just after noon, Loki found himself waiting at the doorstep of 221B Baker Street.


	2. Chapter 2

A polite landlady introduced to him as Mrs. Hudson escorted Loki up to Holmes's flat, commenting that she wasn't sure where he was, but that Loki could stay and wait for him if he liked. It suited him just fine until the landlady opened the door to the sitting room.

London reeked, but that sitting room reeked of more than just the usual fumes that wafted through the city. It smelt of stale tobacco, sweat, gunpowder, and a few more acrid scents that seemed to have been one of the probable causes why the lush green plants drooped and yellowed or blackened around their edges.

Loki wanted to go back down those seventeen steps and walk right out of 221b, but he steeled himself against the smell, turning around to thank Mrs. Hudson before stepping in further to look around.

The smell aside, the sitting room was a complete, eccentric mess. The carpet was disgraceful, as was that oriental slipper hanging upon the mantelpiece. Upon the wall opposite one of the couches were the initials _V.R._ done in what looked like bullets. There was a tolerable bookshelf, a table full of Midgardian science tools, and papers.

As he looked around, he noted the wallpaper with unease. It was just as offensive as the rest of the sitting room, but he could've sworn it was _watching_ him.

Straightening his coat, he made his way over to the mantelpiece where there was a stack of correspondences stabbed onto it with a knife. Were these important? He was tempted to peek, but just as he was about to, he swore he heard a sneeze. A very familiar sneeze.

He turned around again, but all he saw was the same wallpaper and the same furnishings. No sign of Mr. Holmes.

Loki's eyes narrowed. Was Mr. Sherlock Holmes hiding from him? If so, where was he hiding?

Green eyes slowly scanned his surroundings, watching for any indication of movement, of any places a mortal could hide—

And then he saw it.

Maintaining his look of wary confusion, he deliberately made a slow circuit around the sitting room, his hands clasped behind his back.

Doing an abrupt turn to face the mantelpiece again across the room, he sighed and folded his arms, leaning back heavily against the wall, which was warmer and softer than a wall should be. Loki smirked at the soft '_oomph'_ he heard from the wallpaper and knocked his head backward as well, colliding with a harder part of the said wall.

'Tell me, Mr. Holmes, do you always greet your guests in such a manner?'

'And do you make a habit of trying to give your hosts concussions before they can properly greet you?'

The wall shifted and Loki chuckled, moving away to allow Holmes to stagger away from the bit of wall he'd be hiding on. He watched with amusement as he pulled off the headpiece of his camouflage, revealing narrowed eyes as he touched the blooming bruise upon his forehead.

'That was entirely unnecessary, Mr. Keynes.'

Loki smirked and took a seat one of the less-cluttered chairs, putting one ankle over the over as he watched Holmes struggle out of his absurd costume.

'And your hiding was necessary? Who did you expect me to be? Your delightful landlady?'

Holmes made no response, going for the decanter set upon what Loki assumed was the dining table. He poured a glass of amber liquid and looked up, holding up another glass. 'Scotch, Mr. Keynes?'

Loki shook his head, not accustomed to drinking at such an early hour. Holmes shrugged and wandered over to the other seat with his glass and took a sip of his drink. The glass looked oddly out of place in that chemical-stained hand and the man hadn't even bothered with a dressing robe over his rumpled linen shirt and mud-stained trousers. If the sitting room itself hadn't already clogged Loki's sense of smell, Loki was sure that Holmes probably smelled awful.

Such a filthy man in a respectable part of London was almost unheard of. Loki wondered just _how_ anyone could tolerate the man before him with the quick grey eyes and the unshaven face. He wondered idly just what the man would look like if he actually bothered to _groom_ himself like a gentleman ought to.

But then again, Loki already knew this Holmes wasn't a gentleman when he handed Loki the rat instead of his hand on their first meeting.

'So, Mr. Keynes, how may I be of assistance? You are not here for any pressing matters, but you also do not seem comfortable with my humble flat, so you are not here entirely on a whim, or at least you are not staying here because you fancy my company.'

'Were you not expecting me to return?'

'The last time we spoke, you looked at me as if you'd want nothing to do with me. As such, yes, I did expect you to return, though I was uncertain as to how long it would take.'

'Then you know why I'm here.'

'I do not wish to presume—'

Just then, the door to the sitting room opened once more. Loki craned his head around to see a tall blonde gentleman walk in with various parcels tucked under his arm and a cane in the other. He didn't look up immediately, though he did start speaking without looking up as he set aside the parcels and started sorting through the letters and telegrams.

'Seven telegrams and a letter from your dear brother, Holmes—'

'Excellent, Watson—'

'I will be going out to dinner tonight _alone_ with Mary, so if you had any plans of trying to drag me to another one of your investigations—'

'None planned, but Watson—'

'Mary says hello, by the way, not that you'd be interested—'

'Watson!'

'What is it, Holmes—oh.' Watson looked up, finally noticing Loki who rose from his seat with a smile and held out a hand.

'I assume you are Mr. Holmes's flatmate?' Loki watched as Watson straightened and took his hand with a firm grip. At least he had more manners than Holmes, though he was not nearly as observant.

'Yes, yes I am. I am Doctor Watson, a pleasure to meet you, Mister...?'

'Keynes. And likewise, Dr. Watson—'

'Mr. Lawrence Keynes here, you'd be interested to hear, is the owner of what you charmingly dubbed the "Giant Rat of Sumatra", Watson.' The change in the good doctor's expression was minute, but significant. Though it was still pleasant and polite, there was a spark in his pale eyes and his smile broadened as he gestured for Loki to take a seat once more.

'Do excuse my interruption, Mr. Keynes. By all means, please continue your interview with Holmes.'

Loki complied and watched the doctor with interest. Why would a doctor be so interested in a rat that'd he'd quickly take out a small notebook and pen? Was he an animal doctor?

From his periphery, he noted that Holmes was now by the table, flipping through correspondences, as if he had no intention of continuing their interview. If Loki didn't already think Holmes was rude, that would've done it.

There was an awkward silence in the sitting room while Holmes lit his pipe and sifted through the telegrams. He seemed to have forgotten entirely that Loki was there and Watson glanced impatiently at his flatmate before shooting an apologetic look over to Loki.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Keynes—'

'Ha! Watson, something of interest has arisen. Cancel your dinner with Ms. Morstan, for we must be off immediately—'

Watson gaped as Holmes quickly ran into another room, chattering animatedly the whole time about a few past cases that didn't interest Loki in the slightest.

When he returned to the sitting room, he was wiping his face on a cloth and dressed in genteel clothing, clothing that looked a size too large for him, but far less disreputable than what Loki had seen him in before.

'Well, Watson, why are you still sitting there with your notebook out? Come, we must go at once—'

'Holmes? Have you forgotten than you have a _guest_?' Loki glared at Holmes who finally seemed to take note of Loki. There was a twinkle in his grey eyes that told the Trickster well enough that he'd never forgotten Loki, but was being petty over the fact that Loki had ignored him for Watson. How immature.

'Ah yes, Mr. Keynes, perhaps you could call another time? I assure you that you will have my undivided attention then.'

Loki rose from his seat without a response and brushed off his coat before walking over to the door that Watson opened for him with an apologetic smile. He didn't return it as he left, having no intention of ever returning to Baker Street. How foolish of him to think that Sherlock Holmes was worth his time at all.


End file.
